


While Away the Hours

by GatoIshwary



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Adlersbrunn, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, And it's gonna get freaky! XD, Based slightly off of real world locations, Body Horror, Dreams, Farm Work, Farmer Mako, Farmlife is repetitive, Gore, Hayseed AU, Horror, I promise, M/M, Monster fic, Monsters, Nightmares, Original Character Death(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pigs, Poor Hayseed is getting yelled at already, Pretty tame verbal abuse, Scarecrow - Freeform, Slow Burn, Souls, There is eventual porn, They All Have Names, This one's for all you monster fuckers out there!, Witch - Freeform, Witchcraft, Yeah...chapter 3 is a bit shocking, it's gonna be a long one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-11 05:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11708070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GatoIshwary/pseuds/GatoIshwary
Summary: Crows sat nonchalantly on the shoulders of the scarecrow, as he whiled away the hours forcing a smile at some joke that no-one else remembered.Mako had a lot of work to do. He fingers the hem of his straw hat, and sets it atop his head."Well, ...okay then."





	1. Chapter 1

Considering that the Black Forest had and perhaps always would be a tourist hot spot, it seemed a little incredible that Adlersbrunn had remained such a hidden little community. The place was lucky to exist at all, only really held together as a village by the collective will of every resident living there. It was little more than an old fashioned market town and agricultural community, only preserved in memory of a Castle which had once stood proudly overlooking the place many centuries before. Next to none of the castle ruins remained in 2076 but the town hadn't fallen off the map entirely. It was a perfect little slice of German heritage site, out of the way and quaint; ideal for someone who wanted peace and quiet...or to get away from it all.

Mako Rutledge had lived in Adlersbrunn for almost 20 years now. He had turned up all that time ago, seemingly out of the blue one day with fists full of cash and a need to 'settle down' he had explained in broken german and an Australian accent to the local landlord. He arrived wearing biking leathers, open at the front to accommodate the mans enormous gut which had a tattoo of a cartoon pig with an engine and flames on it, poorly hidden by a white tee stretched too thin over his expanse. He had driven in on one of the largest and loudest chopper bikes the residents would likely see in their lifetimes, large enough to hold all 7 plus feet and 550 odd pounds of rider.  
  
The thing wasn't old but it was damaged, with scuffs and dents which made the machine look more like a ratbike than a 'Hog'. No-one dared to ask what happened to it, nor if the accident that the thing must have surely been in had caused what appeared to be the road rash scars on Mako's face, giving him a very unapproachable edge and the most severe case of resting ‘murder face’ anyone could have the misfortune to have. In fact, no-one dared to ask much of Mako, especially since he paid in full up front. Why cause trouble after all?

He seemed to almost hide in his apartment. He would come out every week or so to shop; only ever buying basics amenities or a new book. He had bought exercise equipment, a TV and an enormous bed which had all arrived at the same time, causing somewhat of a scene when three trucks from three separate delivery companies came through the town which usually would only get enough traffic to count on one hand. People talked of course, being as there is little else to do beside work for the people of Adlersbrunn. But Mako didn't give them much to go on.  
  
They figured he was vegetarian from his shopping choices, heavily favouring halloumi, avocado and lentils, and had apparently been spotted buying the entire collective works of the Brontë sisters, but it was only ever hearsay and chinese whispers. Mako rarely spoke to confirm or deny anything; and when he did he was monosyllabic, his accent alien but his german correct; TV had been an excellent educator over time. He became a social enigma and a topic of gossip and speculation. Some less kind mothers would even spin bedtime horrors for their young children that their bad behaviour would summon the grumpy giant from his home to spank them. Mako didn't care; never batted an eye when people would cross the street rather than pass by him. He didn't need them. He was, for the vast majority, left alone, and Mako believed he liked it that way.

Years went past with the Australian immigrant simply seeming to exist, before his money eventually seemed to dwindle. The TV and exercise equipment was sold to pay rent and he was forced to offer his strength as a labourer to make ends meet.  
Adlersbrunn, thankfully is a farming community, something somewhere always needed doing. It was far from damaging to the neighbouring environment however; the worked land seeming to weave between the tree lines in oddly shaped fields and with suggestions of fenced pastures for some livestock which existed in tandem to the Forest around it.  
  
The area was beautiful, but it wasn't untouched by technology either. Work was hard to find for Mako, who had to deal with the competition in the labourers market predominantly dominated by Omnics. The machines were as much people as they were metal or so they claimed but Mako had never believed it. They never tired, never slept, and would work for less pay; they just didn’t feel human to him. Adlersbrunn seemed to have a few more of the robots than the average town due to the place having been mostly spared by the Omnic crisis and aggression towards their race was relatively low compared to more populated areas. Most of the landowners took their work over a humans out of frugal efficiency. Mako really only could get work from one particular farmer who worked his small patch of land by hand even into his old age.

Old Mr Bauer was an ancient old widower who owned Dienerlanden Farmstead. Wrinkled, stubborn and set in his ways, he had no interest in paying anything without a heartbeat, fortunately for Mako. The Old man had cut his costs by disposing of all high maintenance, heavy duty machine and did all work the old fashioned way. Often when Mr Bauer simply wasn't feeling up to the task of managing his farm, he would call upon Mako who had put his name and number in an advert in the local paper. He would work an honest day or maintain the old wood and stone house the man lived in which carried just a little too much weathering to be beautiful.  
  
The place didn’t seemed to be making much profit though; it seemed Bauer really only worked his farm for the love of it, making only just enough to pay Mako and get by. However, sometimes one job, maybe taking a week to finish (such as the re-fencing the entirety of the outer property) payed for almost an entire months rent. But it wasn't steady. Although it was hard to work at the whims and sways of Mr Bauer's grumbling back and knees, it was far better than nothing. No-one else after all seemed to share the old farm-hands...lack of fear of the Australian Bikey.

Mr Bauer was, like a lot of elderly folk, a talker. He would chatter, recall or complain away in his raspy voice for hours at Mako as he would work fields or carry heavy food sacks to where the pigs, Bauer's only remaining livestock, were kept. There had once been horses and goats, but for their own sake, they had been either sold or rehomed. Mako rarely tuned into the old man when he told his stories, merely letting him prattle on about bygone times and the majesty and purity of working with the land like he were nothing more than a TV show host in the background.  
  
It was a fair arrangement for many more years. But not long after Mako's 48th Birthday, he noticed a change. Mr Bauer, whilst still sitting nearby Mako as he worked, would keep mostly quiet these days. Mako was working almost every other day at the farm by then. It was starting to feel almost home-like for him, but the sharp shift to shared silence from near constant noise made Mako uncomfortable. Mako is nothing if not a creature of habit and he dislikes the change.  
He grunts at Mr Bauer, who looks up at him with raised brows and a hum.

"Du schweigst heute." Mako states obviously, his baritone voice loud and clear.

Mr Bauer takes a moment to reply, maybe a little surprised that Mako has spoken first. When he does, he has a small sad smile.  
"Have I ever told you that I’m old? I'm so old, Mako...I'm not long for this world I reckon.  I've a rather wholesome sense of clarity right now that I've seen before. It comes to the dying if they've lived their lives as best they can." He says, the german words flowing far easier for him than for Mako. This is a pretty dark jump from their usual topics and Mako isn't sure what to say, but he stops what he's doing, putting down the stand he'd been repairing for the ratty old scarecrow the man keeps on the grounds.

"I've been thinking, see? I need to start making final decisions on what to do once I kick it. I don't want this place to rot and die with me, it's been in the family for generations. So I called my two sons; you remember me telling you about them? Up and went for the city, yeah?"  
  
Mako nods.  
  
"They haven't tried to contact me in years outside of Christmas and New Years, they rarely speak to me for more than 5 minutes at a time even then. IF they call. So I called them. Or, that is to say, I got a hold of their secretaries. Can't even speak to my own sons anymore, thinking they're too good for me; for all this!" Bauer gripes, sweeping his arm out widely at his land, his hands a little shakier than usual. "I never got to speak to them in the end. Neither one has called back. I can't trust them Mako, and I can't trust this beautiful place to them. They have no love for it anymore, nor me. I'm sure they will not care for it, nor care when I die."

Mako slowly nods, just to confirm he's listening as Mr Bauer sighs wearily and rubs his painful knees. He feels like he should comfort his employer but has no idea how. The old man must be in his 90's and it's not exactly a shock to Mako that he can feel his own mortality catching up with him; but his blunt openness has left Mako with little idea on how to respond.  
  
"What will you do?" Mako settles on asking.

"You're more like a son to me than those two ungrateful wretches..." The old man mutters.

"Herr Bauer?"

The old man, half chuckles and nods to himself, as one does when a decision is made.  
"Ahh, nevermind for now, eh? How about I get you something to drink? Sun must be doing a number on you. Here." Mr Bauer shakily stands, taking his straw sun hat off his bald head and plonking it without permission or ceremony onto a startled Mako's head.  
"You keep that on now. And don't say I didn't ever want the best for you. You're a better man than you think."

Mako grumbles with a mix of indignation and confusion. He watches the back of Bauer slowly wobble back to the house before he gets back to work. The stand wasn't actually broken, the nails and joints had simply come loose; it was a simple job to reset the stand in a classic cross and put the scarecrow back on. Mako gave it a quick inspection, considering maybe fixing the scarecrow itself at a later date.  
  
It was a bizarre and quirky design with a hay ponytail and burlap mask with a Cheshire Cat grin and welding goggles cut through for eyes. It was missing its right leg and spilled it's hay from the spot where perhaps an animal had torn the limb off at some point.The right arm was missing too, but that appeared to have been replaced by a gaudy orange Omnic arm from a disused construction model, pre-Crisis.  
Mako regards its silly grin and smiles back at it as a joke and almost makes himself laugh at his own behaviour. He turns and heads for the porch for that drink Mr Bauer had suggested.

Mako was called to Dienerlanden every day after that. Mr Bauer always called up first, just out of habit and the good manners of asking ‘if it would not be too much trouble’. Then one day, the call didn't come. Mako had grown into an early riser, expecting his call, but this time it got to 10am and still nothing. He even tried calling up himself but there was no answer. Mako took himself in anyway; Mr Bauer hadn’t looked so good yesterday. Maybe the old man finally couldn't get up anymore.  
  
He parked the Hog beside the pig silo as usual, a good kilometre from the main road and still another 100 metres to the house. He made his way past the barn; the pigs sounded grumpy and he knew they had not been fed. Looking down the yard, he saw Bauer sitting on his bench on the porch. It could do with a lick of paint Mako thought, as could the rest of the house. From a distance he looked as if he was only resting...

"Herr Bauer." Mako said, announcing himself as he draws closer so as to not startle the elderly man. "Did you not hear your phone?"

No response.

"...Herr Bauer?"

Nothing. Mako came close enough to see Bauer’s calm face and closed eyes...and lack of breath.

"...Oh."

\---

It was reported that he died of natural causes. Mako had called an ambulance which had taken far too long to get to the farmstead. The police came for a statement but that was procedure. Mako made sure he grit his teeth and was on his best behaviour; last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself. It was all rather efficient as the body was bagged and moved away in the Ambulance. Mako was surprised how cold he was left feeling in his own skin. Had it been so long since he'd last seen a dead body?  
Mako shook away the memories of the life he'd long left behind. He fed the pigs and went home. It was out of his hands now.  
  
The next month was hard for Mako. It's only as the days go by he realises that Mr Bauer actually owed him some 3 weeks worth of money and the rent was due again. He paid what he could, but he knew he had come up short and it would stack onto his next months rent, and that's excluding late fee's. He resent his personal ad to the newspaper but he wasn’t hopeful. He drove back to Dienerlanden to feed the pigs everyday since it was clear that no-one else would. Each day, they seemed happier and happier to see him; like they knew that he's all they had left...

When a call from the Police Station came at the end of the month, Mako had missed the next set of rent entirely. He had barely got enough money left to pay for food and he was facing the horrifying thought of perhaps having to sell the Hog. The officer on the phone asked him to come in at his nearest convenience, so Mako went right away, it's not as if he has anything else to do, and it would be better to get any police business dealth with a quickly and as quietly as possible as far as he was concerned.  
  
When he arrived at the station, the anxiety kicked in and he couldn’t help but think of all the things he had done in his life that would have warranted him being put behind bars. But he knows there's nothing to worry about, they don't know who he was after all. If they knew; they would not have called him, they would have surrounded his apartment building and gone for a forceful arrest; or at least, they would have tried to.  
Mako doesn’t allow himself to grin at his schadenfreude thoughts whilst he is guided into a quiet room with a table and two chairs, and a scrawny man who is clearly not a copper. He's is in a brown business suit with glasses that don't fit quite right over his wide nose.

"Herr Rutledge?" He confirms with an East german accent, offering his hand. It shakes a little at the sight of Mako, they always do. Mako shakes his hand, the size difference almost comical.

"Ja."

"Herr Rutledge, my name is Martin Kraus and I've been appointed by the county council as executor of the late Herr Bauer's estate. Do you know why we've requested you here?"

"No."

"I see. Herr Rutledge, it has come to the local council's attention after some searching of the Dienerlanden Farmstead that Herr Bauer had written a, for lack of a better term, last will and testament."

Mako's brow raised. Had the old man left him something? Mako quietly hopes its money; he needs it. Martin adjusts his glasses that teeter and threaten to fall off his nose from the poor fit as he brings up a piece of paper to read.  
  
"It is not usual conduct to accept such short, handwritten wills. But given that we were unable to contact any next of kin, and frankly, the place is worthless to the council and would be expensive to remove or renovate--" Mako’s eye twitched involuntarily at that. "--it has been decided that perhaps it would be in everyone's best interests to follow through with the late sirs last wishes, even if they are not legally binding. Should you accept, we can write up legal documents for you to sign and it can all be sorted via mai--"

"Get to the point, I haven’t got all day." Mako almost growls. He didn’t want to be there any more than he needed to and the weedy little man's voice irritated him. Kraus anxiously gulps, a little too loudly perhaps and adjusted his glasses one last time.

"V-very well. The will reads as follows…”

"I, Lorenz Bauer, being of sound mind and body. Do bequeath my worldly possessions and financial worth as follows...

Everything I have, I leave to Mako Rutledge, whom had done far more for me than he could possibly know in my final years. Dienerlanden Farm and estate, all assets and approximately €4700 in cash are his to do with what he will. I know he will do what is right."

Mako’s jaw would have hit the table had it not been attached.

“All of this legally will be yours and your responsibility, should you choose to accept.” Kraus finalised. “Would you like some time to consider, or…?”

\---

People talked. Of course they did; in such a small town, gossip was sometimes all that fed the bored and overworked people. There were rumours that flew around that old man Bauer was actually a wealthy Lord and Mako was his illegitimate son, whispers that Mako had blackmailed Bauer into the arrangement...even murmurs that the mountain of a man had murdered him. As always, Mako ignored them. They didn’t care for him and he cared not for them. The only one who did,  was now dead. And Mako now owned everything he had.  
  
Mako paid off his outstanding debts on the apartment and put in his leave. Although he was up and out of the bare apartment the same day; a two week notice period was unnecessary. He had little left of the euro he had been bequeathed once he was back in the black financially; but he had enough for a few months if he was careful with his spendings.

Mako parked his bike in its usual spot. The pigs, now accustomed to the sound, squealed softly and made happy grunts at hearing their friend and carer come back...come home. Mako looked across the acres of land that he now owned; land that he had worked with his own two hands for some 5 years, just as Bauer had done before him.  
  
Some of the inner fences were rotted through and that beam in the barn roof had finally given up and collapsed in on itself, leaving a hole in the roof. The entire cottage could do with some TLC and the crop fields looked as if they could do with a thorough prune and weeding lest they choke and wither. Crows sat nonchalantly on the shoulders of the scarecrow, as he whiled away the hours forcing a smile at some joke that no-one else remembered.

Mako had a lot of work to do. He fingers the hem of his straw hat, and sets it atop his head.

“Well, ...okay then.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He starts to understand Old Man Bauer’s talkativeness. The loneliness.

The farmhouse was caked in dust which flew up in a cloud as if surprised by the door opening. Mako covered his mouth with his hand as he walked inside, a heavy duffle slung over his shoulder with his few remaining possessions. He had only taken a few outfits, a laptop and his books besides the Hog. Everything else he had sold at some point or another to pay for that apartment in which he had dwelled in for so many years.

He set down the bag on the wooden table in the kitchen, renewing the cloud of dust in the air once more. Dust must gather fast in a place like this one. Mako had never actually been past the front porch before so it took a moment to absorb his new surroundings. 

The front door opened onto the kitchen and it would have been spacious if not for how over cluttered it was. The kitchen table had a whole family’s worth of chairs that looked untouched aside for one which took up more room than needed. On every surface there seemed to be some pile of knick knacks or other, more faded and dusty than the rest. 

They looked more typical of a woman's belongings; The old man must have kept his late wifes stuff out of sentimentality.

The rest of the house shared the same trend. Each room seemed to be a barely used shrine to a family scene, long since having flown the nest. The place felt as old and as tired as its previous occupant. It seemed more than a little disrespectful that most of his belongings would have to go if he was going to live comfortably with the limitation of his size, but there really was no other choice.

Besides the kitchen, there was a small pantry which had some of the farms produce preserved in it, the living room downstairs, and a utility room with tools for preserves as well as cleaning products. Mako made a mental note to teach himself how to use those; Maybe he could make himself some jams or chutneys.

Then there was the downstairs toilet that was far too small for Mako to even fit through the door.

Upstairs was the master bedroom, a larger bathroom Mako could actually use and two other bedrooms which had belonged to boys at some point in the past. Mako had a sour taste in his mouth at the reminder that Bauer’s boys were such ignorant, ungrateful wretches that even the authorities were not able to contact them to try and give this place to them. 

It wasn’t a dirty place but it was densely filled and made lots of little crevices for dust to gather. It was just a bit tired and felt like it was trying to be a family home without a family to live in it. It might take him a few days of tidying and removal to get the place livable, yet he felt like he ought to spend the time. He wasn’t sentimental over the old man's stuff but he’d be damned if he’d let the place remain as tired as it was. He’d respect Mr Bauer wishes and not let it die. 

First things first, he goes out to the pigs; his pigs.

He hadn’t actually paid attention to them before nor bothered to count them. They aren’t entirely slaughter pigs, they’re breeding stock. Mako remembers how Bauer would talk for hours about his ‘girls’ in the barn and knew them all by name. Mako didn’t remember many of them, but he remembered that the biggest girl was called Uschi, and the current breeding male was called Hank.

As he turned on the pumps which funneled their feed, he carefully entered the pens and moved to fill both troughs with the pressurized pipe. The pigs all swarmed to get in first; a mad scramble of trotters and snouts all pushing and squealing for their breakfast of wheat, corn, fruit off-cuts and whey. The primary breeders were separated from the ones who would eventually be sold off to the local butchers or to other farmers as new breeders, and were much more subdued with less competition for a good spot.

Mako unlocked and pushed open the double doors to the fenced yard so the pigs could have some free range after eating, then minded his feet as he made his way back out of the pen, patting some heads as he went and brushing his hands off down the front of his open overalls. He had a feeling they were going to see some wear and tear in the future. As he went, he spotted a thick journal, filled with extra papers and bound loosely with string  on a shelf near the muck shovels.

He picked it up, having assumed correctly, that it's an itinerary and inventory for the pigs. It included their names, dates of birth, their health and social development, the financial ins and outgoings as well as names and numbers of food suppliers and vets. As boring as going through it and familiarising himself with the information would be, Mako was glad to have spotted the book.

Mako slipped the book into his pocket, so he could start reading through it later. 

The next step, he decided, was to make a checklist of what he actually needs to do before there becomes too much to remember. It did not take him long to find some paper in one of the many overstuffed drawers in the house along with a pen that worked. After finding both he takes the time, after switching on the sprinklers for the crops, to take a leisurely walk around and make note of anything he could find which could do with repairs, maintenance or future attention.

It didn’t take as long as he thought. Mako spent less than an hour walking around the entirety of the land and came back to stand outside of the house with an extensive list of repairs and touch ups he should do to keep the place safe and in working condition. A non functioning sprinkler on the far side of the farm will take priority tomorrow. For today, he has his heart set on emptying the house of things he has no need of and calling for a skip to take it away.

Mako made his way inside and rummaged through the cupboards to look for some coffee before he got back to work on clutter clearing. Again, there are far more mugs than one man had any right having, and no coffee. Bauer had stacks upon stacks of lemonade cans in the pantry however, as the old man always did have a sweet tooth. Mako quickly checks every cupboard and writes a second list out to take with him to the supermarket in Adlersbrunn. He wasn’t going to be without coffee for too long, that’s for damn sure.

After a can or two of refreshment, Mako got to work. He was pretty indiscriminate about what he got rid of. So little of the stuff was of any real value and it wouldn’t have been worth the effort to try and sell any of it, so it all got lumped into whatever boxes he could find and the rest got haphazardly piled nearby. It started to take over the living room somewhat but he did manage to get the bedroom to a state at which he could use it. 

It was late by the time he stopped, and almost forgot to put the pigs back into their pens. It took some coaxing to get them to obey; they grumbled about being disturbed having already settled down to sleep outside. It was almost midnight when Mako finally clambered into bed, ready to sleep like a log. 

He had stripped himself down and given himself little more than a quick wipe down with a warm, wet flannel and soap rather than showering and waking himself back up. 

Mako had almost lost the book he had found in the barn in the laundry basket. He looked at it, weighing up his choices for a moment or two, before deciding to wait to read it until tomorrow; one step at a time after all. He had a lot of work to do on the place and needed his sleep. Mako was out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow.

He dreamt; he tended to dream in black and white like an old movie, so he always knew when he was dreaming.

Mako was riding his Hog at breakneck speeds, taking up both sides of the road as he hurtled far too fast to be safe on mountain roads, but he didn’t crash nor lose control. Old Man Bauer brought him some lemonade somehow despite not having a vehicle and seemingly appearing from nowhere. Bauer smiled, and Mako smiled back.

\---

Mako awoke feeling surprisingly refreshed. He woke up a little later than usual, but perfectly on time given that he had no need to travel today. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and it almost made him jump at the unusual texture beneath his feet. He was used to bare wood floors, not old and worn carpet threads. He wasn’t used to so much space and light either as he rubbed the residue from his eyes with the backs of his hands and fingers.

It had suddenly occurred to Mako, only then, that he had just slept in the old man's bed. The bed that he had died in. He had completely forgotten in his exhaustion last night and hadn’t noticed. If that wasn’t bad luck, what was? Mako groaned loudly as his superstition ran away with him for a moment. Yet more would need to be replaced in the house it seemed. Perhaps he should burn the bed to be sure nothing would happen…?

Trying to remind himself that it’s not the dark ages as he got up to wash his face and brush his teeth. He still throws out all of the old toiletries and razors, even the unopened ones; just in case. He remembered to pick up the journal before he made his way downstairs to make breakfast; simple porridge but heavily garnished with jams and fruits all grown either on farm or picked from the forest where the tree’s grow thickest.

Mako added all the new things he must remember to buy or replace on his to do list which was ever growing it seemed. The house may actually have to wait as he realises he must keep an eye out for the skip he ordered, replace the bed before he starts summoning the old man's ghost, fix a sprinkler, tend to the pigs and make time to read through that journal to make sure he’s doing everything right.

He had two bowls of porridge and it really did warm him through; the berries and jam were glorious and he hoped he could either learn how to replace them as quickly as he felt he could get through them, or just make them last as long as possible. As he stood before the door, Mako remembered at the last minute to place his straw hat on his head; he didn’t fancy getting sunstroke. Afterward, he went and proceeded with the pigs morning rituals; feed, pat, doors, exit, brush down. It takes him a little longer than yesterday; he spent longer patting some of the breeding sows than usual. They just had so much personality, surprisingly.

First of all Mako went to fix the sprinkler before he forgot which one it was. He took the tool box he had become well acquainted with over the last few years and made sure it had rubber sealants and stoppers. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be upon close scrutiny. The system was just old and rusty; all he had to do was unscrew it, deoxidize the surface and interior and reseal with rubber sealant so no more air could get in and re-do the damage. 

He turned the sprinklers on again and saw it spring back to life. One job done, good. Rather amusingly; the birds were also disturbed from their hiding places and scattered at the sudden sprays. Mako eyes up the scarecrow critically as he passes it.

“Useless, aren’t you?” He scolds it.

The scarecrow could only smile.

Why on Earth did he talk to it, he wondered.

The sprinklers were on a timer system and only watered sparingly every day to keep the soil from getting dry, the frequent rain did the rest of the work. The sprinklers water had its own tank underground which was fed into by the local stream straight from the mountain, so in the rare event of a drought the crops wouldn’t suffer so much. Mako personally was glad that this meant that watering the crops wouldn’t dip into his water bill.

Mako goes back inside to start shovelling more of the ancient toys and miscellaneous crap into designated piles of trash and recyclables. He isn’t fastidious about recycling, but anything obvious he set aside to take to the dump.  It would be a long ride, he would have to go around the mountain to the other side of Hinterzarten ski resort where the tourists still come to compete in the Ski Jump Grand Prix, to find a proper disposal site. He would like the excuse to go riding however, and didn’t mind so much.

The pigs alerted Mako to the skip turning up which was set up just outside the house; he’s told that he has it on lease for a week before the company would return to collect it; more than enough time. Finally he can start shovelling the crap piles he had accumulating. He only clears what he started however. He’ll leave the rest for tomorrow, as it took him so long to do yesterday and he’s already late for lunch.

Mako made himself an omelette with some wild mushrooms. Steinpilz, champignons, and pfifferlinge, the prized chanterelle mushroom all make it a rich and filling meal. Finally with a full belly and an idea as to what he wants to do tomorrow; Mako makes time for the book. He picks it back up off of the table where he had left it this morning, untying it and flicking it open. 

The journal is more like three different notebooks all haphazardly bound together. One appears to be all legal notes and addresses, including the individual notes and care of the pigs. Another appears to be a collection of photocopies stapled together of pages from a book so old that the only thing holding it together was the stains. The cursive writing was hard to make out and the language seemingly old and disused. The last notebook was a much more up to date journal, or diary.

Each one seemed interesting in its own right. The workbook really did only need a skim through, or as much of a skim as Mako could as he had to keep going back and double checking that he was reading the german words correctly. Everything he could possibly need was in this book as one contact or another. Mako smiled as saw under contacts, his own name and number with an arrow pointing toward it and the word “Zuverlässig”... and laughed when another name and number was crossed out with the word “Fotze” next to it instead.

The photocopies appeared to be of pages from a book written in old germanic and Mako couldn’t really understand much of it at all. He could catch the odd word, some with the help of illustrations, hand drawn in the borders. If Mako were to sit down with a German dictionary maybe he could decipher it in time. But for now, it just seemed like a memory of some kooks book from a bygone era.

Finally was the diary of Old Man Bauer himself. This was just personal it seemed and dated back some years before Mako was ever working for him. Some of the entries were years apart, but the book was cared for, only the edges worn from use. It looked as if it hadn’t been with the other two books long at all. Mako hesitated only for a moment before opening it. Just a skim, to see if there was anything he ought to know. If not, he wouldn’t tempt any more bad luck with his trespassing into the dead's belongings. 

Mako was immediately rewarded when he skipped to the very last entry. It was written in shaky scrawl, the hand of a dying man. Mako saw his name immediately and mouthed silently in English as he translated the passage to himself.

“I know you’ll find this Mako, so make sure you read all of it, my boy. You’re going to need to be braced for when the Witch comes knocking for your soul. As she did all of ours.”

A witch?

Mako scoffed aloud at the ridiculousness, he knew himself to be a little superstitious, but nothing on this level. The man was old, but to be believing in old folk tales of witches? That was a laugh! Mako separates the books out; he decided to keep the photocopies in a drawer he had emptied out specifically for keeping useless tat in that he doesn’t know whether to dispose of or not. He takes the two remaining books back out to the barn. The workbook he replaced on the shelf; he would need that later. Mako picked up a stepping stool from the corner of the barn and carefully got back into the pig pen with the segregated female breeders. 

If he really is going to read it as asked, he might as well pet the pigs at the same time. Why not?

The pigs were mostly outside sunbathing, but two of the girls came inside for ear scratches, which they received. Mako is pretty sure that their names are Mina and Lind. Lind is easy to recognise as she is by far the longest in body length. Mina less so, but she has black spots and... this one has spots... doesn’t Wendaline have them too? Mako realised he might have to spend a bit more time than he thought pouring over the pigs notes until he knew which one is which. He didn’t want to get their medical records mixed up.

And who knows, maybe the girls would get upset if he called them by the wrong name. 

Mako read it backwards. Perhaps not the best way to read a diary, but he could always reread sections, and the first entry was dated from some time in the 20’s, almost 60 years ago. Mako was surprised by how well the book had clearly been looked after over all this time, like it needed preserving. It was a touch sun faded but otherwise held up well under Mako’s rough fingers. 

The last few entries were mostly about how Mr Bauer knew he was dying; he wrote about how he knew he had lived a full life, perhaps not good, but full nonetheless. He wrote that he of course had some regrets, regrets that he hoped Mako wouldn’t judge him for when he eventually and inevitably found out. Mako cocked a brow at that, but knew he’d likely get to that eventually.

Mako could pretty much see how his presence had impacted the old man over the last few years as he wrote. There was months between entries and a lot of gaps in the information, but Mako could keep up with it just fine. Bauer had been having pains for longer than he had let on it seemed. He wrote a lot about the pigs as if they were people and about the scarecrow just as much. 

As it turned out the scarecrow had a name. It was called Hayseed.

Loneliness seemed to feature in many of the man's entries. Mako found himself rubbing Lind’s head just a little more as he went further back into the book, trying to shake loose the feeling himself. He sincerely hoped this would not end up his destiny as well. Mako looked up from the book and around the barn at the only other lives who shared the farm with him. They chattered away in their own way and Mako suddenly wished he could understand. 

Mako shut the book a little too firmly. He’ll return to it later, even for someone as used to solitude as Mako, that was just a little bit too depressing. He pockets it and makes his way back to the house. There are at least two more rooms to clear, and that’s without getting around to reorganising the kitchen which is still cluttered even without all of the sentimental bric-a-brac strewn about its surfaces. 

The upstairs rooms, which are full of everything from toys to advanced computers, were clearly the sons old rooms. Their interests were easy to recognise from posters on the walls and memorabilia on shelves. Mako put aside an almost complete set of football cards to try and flog online later. He didn’t know if the cards were rare or had value, but a few were signed and may fetch a few quick euro.

Mako kept the bed in one room and the wardrobe which was already empty. The other he was more brutal with. This son had a gaming hobby it seemed. Mako skipped the lot; he doubted any of it had any value at all. The decorative models of excessively busty female characters were unboxed and the game disks scratched to almost unplayable. One of the consoles was in pieces. Pretty much everything that wouldn’t catch the wind was tossed from the window and into the bin outside.

Mako took apart the furniture, so old and faded to the point of weakness that he needed no tools to dismantle them, choosing instead to use the space of the cleared room to rip the meager plywood apart piece by piece until it could all follow out the window to the skip. The rug, dust laden and ugly even before the sun had got to it, was the last piece to go, save for the mattress which would have to go down the stairs and out the door as the window was too small. As Mako rolled it up so he could attempt to throw that as well, it revealed the original carpet colour and a collection of magazines.

Across the covers were busty, and heavily made up, girls who had their legs so far apart they may as well have different nationalities of each ankle. They pouted at the camera and made inviting gestures with lips heavily pumped with filler and breasts which looked stiff and fat with silicone. The pages were a little too stiff for his liking to peruse through but one or two pages had either a particularly lovely lady or a picture of a couple taken during the ‘money shot’. Mako’s eyes flicked to both participants, admiring them equally.

It had been a long time since he’d had the chance for intimate contact with anyone and he found himself missing it. He made a approving hum as he stared at the page and the woman's curves, her natural ones, and the man’s toned muscles. Both glistened in the harsh camera light from either sweat or oil, and both seemed enticing.

Mako disposed of the magazine before he found himself with another problem to deal with.

Mako doubled checked the other bedroom for hidden gems. He was rewarded for his thoroughness when he found, in the same spot, more dirty mags. Only this time, the cover wasn’t adorned with some busty brunette fresh off the operating table with her new pair of tits, but with the much more extreme proportions of an Omnic with a feminine chassis. 

Mako, only out of morbid curiosity, opened it and scowled at the machines within, all in the same provocative positions. One of them wasn’t even human shaped and that’s where Mako drew the line, scrunching up the magazine in a hand and throwing it too hard to the skip through the window. At least the other lad some taste. 

Dinner was käsespätzle with extra cheese because Mako loves himself. He had never been one for meager meals and was always generous with his portions. He put the pigs to bed on time today and they are much less irritable than they had been yesterday. He yet again finds Bauer’s journal in his pocket as he goes to bed, still only slightly damp from a shower. He read a few more entries, still going backwards and find nothing of any real interest aside from him having spotted a Lynx last winter.

Mako put it down and feels no real need to pick it back up. He wondered why the man wanted him to read it in the first place given that it really is just filled with the most dreary musings of an elderly man. He settles down to sleep. He dreams about the pigs. They make a living ladder for him to climb and fix the barn roof. They ask in bizarre piggy voices if he’s put on a little weight and Mako laughs. 

The next day, Mako starts to notice the quiet, the grind of the day. He’s always been a hard worker and doesn’t struggle to find anything to do. He has toast for breakfast, he tends to the pigs, he turns on the sprinklers, he makes plans on how to safely fix the barn roof since he doesn’t want to call anyone to do what he most certainly has the skill for. Mako has lunch, then he repairs some of the fence posts nearest to the road so the place looks presentable upon passing and shoo’s away some crows that had sat on Hayseed the scarecrow, plucking strands of his hay stuffing out of its’ neck one by one like it was a fun game.

“Useless.” Mako accuses once again. Hayseed smiled back at him.

That night's dinner was klöße stuffed with spiced carrot and pepper in melted butter. That night, Mako dreamt about flying, a lovely dream from which he was unlucky enough to get a sudden shock and from the falling sensation and awoke with a start. He struggled to get back to sleep after that.

Morning comes; breakfast, pigs, excuses himself from the rickety roof, fences, lunch, more fences, dinner, shower, bed. It’s a cycle of repeat that turns quickly monotonous to the point that when he hears the unfamiliar sound of the trunk horn as it comes to collect the now full skip, he jumps and makes an undignified squawk of alarm. The removal guy is quick and efficient and doesn’t talk much and Mako is surprised by how much he tries to make conversation with the guy until he leaves.

He starts to understand Old Man Bauer’s talkativeness. The loneliness.

Two weeks in, he goes into town. He’s finally run out of most fresh things he can use to eat and the toilet roll is looking a little close to the mark as well. He normally hated shopping but the change of scenery was welcome this time as he rolled up to the local supermarket on his hog. He takes with him an empty duffel bag which he put his bags into and carries on his back so he needn’t have a trailer or sidecar. 

The cashier didn’t speak to him any more than she had to. She was a middle aged woman with her hair up in a bun that was too tight. He didn't recognise her, then again, he couldn't recognise most people in the village. Mako, for the first time in decades, actually tried to make small talk, just to hear another human beings voice, but she had given him monosyllabic answers out of necessity rather than conversing back. He was still feared; but of course he was, they all think he murdered Bauer...

Mako arrived back at the farm feeling worse than ever. The crows seem to be fighting over a particularly choice piece of hay spilling from Hayseed’s mouth when he parks up. Mako gets to see the whole stupid affair as one crow pecks so hard he pushes the other crow off of Hayseed, and as it tries to right itself the weight of two crows is all it takes to finally finish off decades old fixings and Hayseed slips off its mounting and crumples to the ground, sending both rowdy crows flying in a mess of startled and indignant feathers.

He had to slowly blink to try and process what he just saw, before sighing deeply at just one more job to do. He goes over to pick up Hayseed and flops the limp thing over one arm, even with a metal arm, it barely weighs anything. The head isn’t attached very well and almost falls off completely as it rolls from side to side.

“Hey,” Mako grunts at it, “If I fix you up, will you actually do your damn job?”

Hayseed smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is out! Here to build a world for y'all!
> 
> Thank you all for coming back for more!!
> 
> Whilst this has been beta'd; I'm still not quite sure of it and it may be subject to some tense touch ups here and there.  
> Many thanks to SassyAussieLassie and Capt_Chameleon for the beta work!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no sound; so much so that he can hear his own heart beating and the blood rushing in his ears. It is as if he dared to utter of such a creature, and every living thing from the spiders and woodlice between the floors, to the pigs outside, to the very wood of the house itself has held it’s breath. All that’s left is this gaunt quiet.

Mako placed Hayseed on the kitchen table to await his ‘surgery’ as Mako put away the food and popped out to put the pigs to bed early. With nothing left to do outside, he could focus on getting the scarecrow repaired. The seams of the overalls were in shoddy shape and most needed re-doing, which Mako struggled with given the size of his hands. He also needed some repairs on the stockings which made up its ‘skin’ which Mako stitched up using the same thick thread as the rest of its clothes, not like it mattered anyway.

The omnic arm was a bit harder to seal on more securely as he had to take apart one of the outer metal rings and reseal with the stocking, now freshly stitched up, sealed around it. It would take more than a measly crow to separate that arm now. Mako ran out of thread for the ruined leg and leaves it be, character building he calls it to Hayseed... aloud... like it can talk back. Mako stops then and goes to bed, feeling ridiculous.

Mako dreamed of buttons. He is sewing buttons onto people's eyes, and he’s sure he’s seen that in an old kids movie. It seemed dark when Mako had seen that as a child and it was dark now in his dreams as an adult. He recognised some of the people he was sticking needles into; the lady from the supermarket, old man Bauer and Hayseed, but only Hayseed screamed.

The nightmare shook Mako pretty hard the next day as he looked down at the scarecrow he would have to carefully open up today to re stuff so he could reseal it with the same stitches. He gets the job done, albeit slowly, half expecting it to scream at some point. But logic and reality wins and the scarecrow doesn’t make a peep as it’s refilled to a human shape; top heavy with a thin waist and wide hips, Mako’s type he notices.

Mako doesn’t get the time to scold himself as a sharp cawing brings him out of his head space sharply and he looks out the window to see the two crows, undoubtedly the same two that always sit on the scarecrows shoulders, waiting for it on its perch. Cheeky shits. Mako has to yell to get them to shoo this time; they’re getting bolder. They’re far from the only birds that ravage the field but they’re the ones whom have taken a liking to Hayseed.

Mako put in new nails on the cross shaped post which is just about hanging in there (pun most definitely intended and Mako chuckles at his own dumb joke) enough for him to feel safe enough in replacing Hayseed on it. He ties the limbs back in place securely and pats it down.

“There.” Mako says, and boops the scarecrows right in its freshly stuffed face. It looked much tidier. “Now cut the crap and do your job.”

Hayseed smiles confidently. Or at least, it felt like confidence to Mako.

\---

It becomes a bad habit. Mako almost always throws his scarecrow some remark or observation, a greeting or farewell as he passes by. He tells himself that treating it like a human might encourage some of the birds to go away since they won’t be so sure that hayseed isn’t human either... but the same two crows, now named Heckle and Jeckle by Mako, just will not shift. They barely even eat the corn, they just sit and caw loudly and perhaps discuss the consistency of squirrel droppings in the local woods.

October rolls around and Mako realises he’s been at the farm over a month already. He’s learnt all his pigs names and has got the hang of most things he needs to do in a day. He had even attempted to breed Didrika with Hank but he’s not sure if she’s pregnant yet.

The corn has silk pouring from the green husk and is ready to harvest which he will have to do by hand. This will be his only corn crop this year so he hopes his somewhat lack lustre weeding hasn’t done too much damage.

Behind the house, in other field, more like a glorified garden really, the pumpkins and bok choi have really come into their own but the yams have been almost completely ruined by parasites and the amaranth is a little on the limp side. He can’t sell it, but he’ll still eat it. And if it’s looking just a little too unpalatable, he’d sure the pigs will enjoy the treat. His herbs have done well, but will need to be clipped, potted and brought inside before the winter chill comes early as it always does in Europe.

As if like an omen, one particularly cold breeze brushes by Mako as he head back to the house for the evening. Heckle and Jeckle have ruffled themselves up to escape some of the chill and don’t even fly away as Mako approached Hayseed.

“It’s just as well you don’t feel the cold.” Mako comments, “It would just mean I’d have to buy another coat.”

Hayseed smiles at Mako.

Mako holds up some amaranth he harvested earlier.

“Think I can get away with eating this sorry excuse of a crop or should I give it to the girls?”

Hayseed’s hay rustles softly in the breeze.

Mako snickers at his scarecrow.

“Yeah, I thought so too. I’ve always like that about you; you’re not fussy!”

Hayseed smiles along with Mako.

“See you later, Hayseed.”

The scarecrow smiles a fond farewell as Mako turns to go inside. Heckle and Jeckle cackle at Mako as he slowly goes stir crazy like the farmer before him and peck, almost lovingly, at hayseed’s face.

Mako prepares his dinner, separating the tiny grains which he pops in a frying pan and sprinkles over a salad made with the leaves and other vegetables. With a drizzle of balsamic vinegar, it’s a rich and nutty meal and he’s glad he didn’t give it to the pigs, no matter how much they would have liked it. Mako reminds himself to thank Hayseed for his opinion in the morn-- Oh for God’s sake Mako, get a grip!

“I’m losing it.” He comments only to himself, as if to confirm his suspicion.

“This is my life now. I’m going to go stir crazy on a farm with a god damn scarecrow as my only companion…”

Mako goes upstairs, not bothering to wash the dishes tonight and puts himself to bed. He skips a shower but he’s frustrated with himself and just wants to sleep. And yet, over an hour later, he still lays awake, unable to settle.

Maybe it’s because the mattress of the new bed still hadn’t settled in right. Perhaps he had almost gotten used to sleeping in the old man’s bed, regardless of the superstitious nonsense he was beginning to tack onto it. But it was neither here nor there as to why; there he still laid awake when he could feel the exhaustion still tugging at him.

Mako decides, after almost a month of being untouched, to pick up Mr Bauer’s journal once more for some light reading. He has to brush off the thin layer of dust he let settle on it before he opens it up again. He opens it in a few random places and reads the entries. There’s one about finding one of his son's phone numbers after spotting his company on a TV in the diner in town and the argument between the two once contact was re-established after so many years.

Another entry was very old indeed, from right at the front of the book. This passage spoke about the man meeting his wife. Mako was pretty sure it was his wife anyway because Bauer had described her; a tall and dark haired woman with cheekbones that could cut you if you came too close. Old man Bauer had also commented that he preferred blondes which seemed a little odd, but they’d laughed about it anyway. He sung her praises however in this entry and wrote poetry about her; terrible, terrible poetry but it was sweet in a way.

On another page however, Mako’s brow raises when he talks about another woman.  
  


“ _She doesn’t love me like I love her. I gave her what she wanted, but I guess I should have known that it wouldn’t be enough. I got my end of the bargain, but I don’t know if I can live without her affections._

_She’s so beautiful. Blonde, and so fair with a voice with Swiss twist, like it’s there for spice to complement the sugary sweetness of it. I could describe her for hours but I know I have done so before in these very pages._

_She tempts me so, says that if I give her more she’ll make me so happy that I will forget all my sins. Perhaps that would be worth it; even without claiming my soul, the Witch of the Wilds has stolen my heart._

_God forgive me_.”  
  


Mako slowly closed the book and with a baffled expression. Did he cheat on his wife? Bauer hadn’t mentioned such a thing and he mentioned a LOT of things. Perhaps this is what the old man was worried Mako would judge him for. But what on earth kind of woman could he be in love with if he calls her a witch?

It strikes Mako then that this could be the very same witch he was warned of in the very last entry. But, they can’t be the same woman; this entry is some 55 years old, older than Mako is. If the woman isn’t dead, she’s going to be very old and no threat to anyone. But then again…

“What if she IS a witch?”

Mako put the book down and is stunned at how loud the sound of the leather on the wood is, how his sheets shuffle at a volume unprecedented. There is no sound; so much so that he can hear his own heart beating and the blood rushing in his ears. It is as if he dared to utter of such a creature, and every living thing from the spiders and woodlice between the floors, to the pigs outside, to the very wood of the house itself has held it’s breath. All that’s left is this gaunt quiet.

Mako laid himself back down in the dark and tried not to listen too closely to his pounding heart

\---

He dreamt; but in this dream he first awakens. He ‘awoke’ to see a woman floating before him on an honest to goodness broomstick. She’s beautiful, stunningly so with blue eyes and blonde hair which might have been longer than it looked given that it seemed to be hidden under her hat, pointed and almost comically large. She’s dressed in a revealing tunic with pretty accents and draping cloth pieces with brass buttons. From her hip hangs a book with the word ‘Vitae’ on it.

Her most impressive feature however, are a pair of wings, glowing softly with black metal feather from her back. His room is filled with a subtle purple smoke, from within, a vague shape of a man with a pumpkin for a head and glowing yellow eyes stalks back and forth like a lion, antsy for a kill. Oddly, this dream is in colour.

“They say you speak of the devil and they shall appear.” she says in a soft voice that feels both delicate and commanding.

“You, Mako Rutledge, cried ‘Witch’ and now I am here.”

Mako’s jaw hung as he sat in his bed with only the thin duvet covering his pajamas that left little to the imagination. Colours or not, there’s no way this couldn’t be a dream and he could not help but laugh slightly at the craziness of the sight before him. In the safety of dream space; Mako decide to put on his most charming smile.

“Well this is the first time the lady’s come to my room first! I usually have to work a lot harder to get to this stage!”

The Witch smiles at him with a coy giggle as she balances herself on her broom with grace.

“And you ARE a hard worker, aren’t you?” She observes.

“I do my best.”

“It’s not all you are though, is it?” the Witch adds, “You know what I think you are?”

“What’s that, ‘schatz’?”

“You’re lonely, ‘liebeling’.”

Mako swallows around how much this rings true. He shrugs and tried to charm his way to her one more time.

“I won’t be if you’re here.”

“Day after day you do the same thing over and over again.” She tells him, and she gets to watch the smile slowly fall from his face as she speaks.

“Day after day, and it will be year after year. You’ll have no time to rest proper, and no time to make bonds. You’re going to be stuck here Mako for longer than you can fathom. No mortal can fathom their own death after all. You die on this farm a lonely old man, with only swine having kept you company...unless…”

“Unless WHAT?” Mako snaps suddenly, his voice forlorn and his heart heavy as he feels he cannot argue with her, she seems too powerful.

“Unless, I help you out a little.”

Mako looks at her surprised and doesn’t notice the purple mist swirling around him; they build like tiny tornado’s into tendrils that wave in the air. It’s so thick that he can’t see his floor any more.

“Would you really do that?” Mako asks with some suspicion, “Nothing is free.”

The Witch giggles again and it’s a sound like a siren's song; both settling Mako’s heart and sending a cold chill down his spine as he feels as if she is the one who could snap him in one hand, despite their immense size difference.

“You’re right Mako. But I am nothing if not generous. Shall we make a deal?”

“A deal with the devil?”

“A deal with the Witch of the Wilds.”

The mist begins to swirl faster and grown thicker. It pools so high that it’s almost spilling over atop of Mako’s bed now. It’s cold.

“I know what you want, Mako Rutledge, and I will give it to you.” The Witch promises.

“I will make it so that your life has meaning again. That your efforts will go rewarded; that all that you do is for the joy of someone else. And this time, they will not die on you like Lorenz did. You will never know the touch of loneliness again, and you will not have to lift a finger for it…”

Mako listened and the last month replays in his head. It was as haunting as the mist which began to swallow his bed. It’s one lonely day after another in which he tries not to think about how much he misses his years with Bauer. He had gone some 15 years by himself before, but he had been younger then. He had distractions and other concerns. Now, as he has grown into an old man, the crisis of no longer being able to live with his solitude tears him apart. The old man had spoilt him, and now, company of any sort would be a sweet release from this torture.

“What’s the catch?” Mako asks before his emotions get the better of him.

The Witch smiles, but this one isn’t so sweet.

“A favour.”

Mako squints at her, still suspicious.

“A favour that I may call upon whenever I so please. But do not fret Mako, I will not ask of you that is not physically possible for you to give.”

Really? That seemed like a pretty good deal right now. Mako listed off in his head the worst case scenario’s and the only physical thing he felt was unreasonable would be the house. And if that was the case, he’d do what he’d always done, and cope. Mako tries to look more confident than he feels when he smiles at the Witch, as she had done so at him.

“Sounds good to me, schatz. Do we seal it with a kiss?”

The Witch snickers darkly.

“In a way…”

With a snap of her fingers, the little light in the room is swallowed by her magic and the mist moves like a cracking whip, snapping into the shapes of chains which clatter loudly. Mako gasps as the air temperature drops sharply and suddenly leaving him able to see his own breath and shivering.

“To preserve the dead.” she explains and crooks a finger, beckoning. The book at her hip flew from her side and laid open at her feet. The chains dove into the pages as if they were filled with water of life itself and pulled forth... a man.

She smiles as he trembles, bound tightly in the chains. He’s tall, not as tall as Mako but far taller than the average man and so slender Mako thinks he can see his ribs through what looks like a lab coat. Its covered in blood stains and rips, some of it even looks melted into the bruised, purple flesh beneath. He’s missing both of his right limbs and both stumps look scarred and bloody, like whatever prosthetic is meant to be there has been ripped off.

He looks up slowly and makes eye contact with Mako. He has cracked, blue tinted goggles which hide his true eye colour, but fear swirls in them. He has white hair, unnaturally so, like it’s been bleached or stained rather than aged. The man himself looks to be no more than in his mid twenties. The hair is also blood stained with two splits in the man's head which look to have been caused by impact. But what’s most noticeable about him, is the striking red line across his entire neck.

Not as if his throat had been merely cut, but as if his head had been severed entirely.  

The Witch grips his chin and roughly drags him to face her. He has no voice for his fear and doesn’t seem to breathe, but he shakes and cries openly as the Witch comes close.

“Time to make yourself useful, my servant. I claim what is rightfully mine...give me your soul.”

She kisses him, soft and sweetly on his quivering, thin lips.

Mako can only watch in horror, his own voice deserting him, as the man silently screams, his very flesh ripping itself from his bones where she kissed him and travelling down. The body bucks and writhes in its chains as the pained man is reduced to a bloody skeleton, caught in the throes of its screaming, still twitching despite itself. The skull in cracked deeply in two places. Some of the bones seem to fade away like ash on a breeze as well but the shape remains.

The Witch taps her own chin thoughtfully. When she looks back to Mako, he can’t help the soft noise of terror that falls out of him; she smiles at that.

“How about a vessel for this new life that you are familiar with, hm?”

She raises both hands and what looks like hay and scraps of cloth and thread seem to rise from the mists. It swirls around the still silently screaming skeleton until the hay binds so tightly that it can no longer fight. It takes shape again, metal pieces rising from the smog to fill in some of the gaps. Mako recognises the shape of his scarecrow, his make believe ‘friend’, well before it’s finished.

When the shape is finally complete, the chains unravel from the skeleton and its straw tomb and hover menacingly in the air. The pumpkin head with glowing eyes stopped to briefly scrutinize the new creature, but seemed unimpressed. The Witch of the Wilds giggles with delight and strokes the smiling sack cloth head with all the care of a loving mother. She side eyes Mako one last time just as he’s sure he feels tears of fright roll down his cheeks.

“My gift to you.” She said sweetly.

The scarecrow...Hayseed...twitches. It’s eyes lit up suddenly, and the limp head snapped up to stare at Mako. The smile turned into a grimace, and stretched into an impossibly wide shriek with a shrill scream, like metal dragged against metal.

 

Mako awoke with a roar so loud he hurt his throat and fell with an enormous ‘THUD’ out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE!!
> 
> Now I KNOW this chapter needs more work and tense correction despite both myself and my beta working to keep up with it. I keep switching from past to present tense and back again and I'll need to edit both of the updates manually to get to it all. But I wrote these both in one sitting...all 8k of it in a few short hours and my brain is fried.  
> I'll just have to fix them later.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this far! Comments and kudos are HUGELY appreciated and all comments will be answered!
> 
> Next chapter will be properly beta'd and in the correct tense! I promise!
> 
> Thanks again to the lovely SassyAussieLassy for helping me to correct this shit show and offering some good lines to use! XD


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stepped out and into the rain, little more than a drizzle now. The air was cold and chilled Mako to the bone in seconds but he walked with purpose towards the scarecrow. He could hardly see it, his eyes not adjusting to the dark as quickly as he’d like as he moves further away from the house which dimly lights the way from the open door. Mako was almost right on top of it before he could see it clearly.
> 
> It had moved again...

There was no chance of Mako returning to sleep after that nightmare. It was dark outside, the clock claiming that it was only 3:44AM but he couldn’t even bring himself to lay back down. Instead, Mako had got himself up, and into a slightly too hot shower, but not before locking away that damn journal in a drawer. Only that could have put the idea in his head for such an awful dream.

He still felt unnaturally cold. Mako rubbed his arms, and almost clawed at his face as borderline scalding water ran over him, making his skin a little puffy and red. Eventually, years of frugal living habits kicked in and he put the plug in the bath to let it fill up with his shower water so he could sit in the hot water without it wasting anymore. It was a bit of a squeeze to fit in the tub but more than worth it to get the chill out of his bones.

It had honestly felt so real. He could still smell the blood in the air of the poor bastard who had been torn apart before his eyes and he shuddered at the memory. It replayed in his head over and over how skin had separated from muscle, how the mouth had hung slack in a silent scream…

How his friend had reached out for him, his body a broken and mangled mess on the dusty road with blood pooling around--

Mako shook his head; he had no time nor patience for that memory to suddenly resurface. His dread was quickly replaced by hot rage and suddenly he didn’t feel cold any more. After all he had been through, a pathetic little dream had no right to make him feel this way. He had coped with horror back in his youth, and that had been real. Lives had been lost, taken... by his own hands. This supernatural, fantasy bullshit was nothing and Mako was going to treat it as such.

He got up from the bath too fast and the water spilled over onto the tiled floor. He yanked out the plug and dried off, skipping the splashed water to let it dry by itself. He still felt no desire to sleep; instead only a burning anger and a need to bury himself in his work as he had done for the last month. He treated himself to the biggest breakfast he had had in a long while; toast, eggs, beans and mushrooms over röschti that he took the time to make for himself.

Mako enjoyed cooking and had used his previous years of indulgence to teach himself many of the local recipes as well as perfect some others. He always made sure he had fresh ingredients now for when the desire to cook took him. He could be rather creative with a potato when he tried.

He took his straw hat and a coat out with him today; there was a nip in the air as the Autumn breeze rolled through but Mako hardly felt it. It was still too early to wake and feed the pigs so he went out into the dawns low light to begin the harvest. It was only when he got the scythe that he discovered that it had been broken for some time, the long wooden handle snapped from about a foot down from the steel blade. Mako wasn’t going to let this stop him; he took the blade any way and made his way to the corn to start hacking.

He left the corn stalks in manageable piles behind him as he went, so he could come back and strip them in manageable amounts later. He approximated that each pile would be a crates worth that he could offer on the market. As long as he stayed local, he knew he would fetch a pretty penny for the corn, even after throwing away the multiple heads that the birds had got to first. But they wouldn’t waste; they were just more goodies for the piggies.

He swings wide with the sickle-scythe with little care. The whole crop needed to come down so he could free up the soil and let it rest for next year during the upcoming months. If he was more skilled perhaps he could have got one more crop to grow, such as fast growing beetroots but there was just too many weeds. He’d lose valuable time trying to get the field ready and it would have been more than likely the frost would settle in before the beets matured.

In his haste, Mako almost hacked down the post holding up the scarecrow. Mako looked up at it and only just caught himself before he uttered an automatic ‘sorry’. Instead, he grunted at it in spite and moved on. Jeckle and Heckle came to sit on the shoulders as Mako moved away, but kept their usual caws and japes to themselves today, as if they knew better. 

The sun rose and almost made Mako jump with the suddenness of the light pouring over his land, and the eruption of bird song that came with it. He’d give it another hour before seeing to to his girls. He tried to focus and force the time to pass, considering how he would treat his soil for next year. He had found far more aphids, caterpillars and beetles living in the stalks of his plants than he was comfy with. Maybe mixing in some diatomaceous earth when he tills the ground would fix the problem?

Mako was a sweaty mess by the time he decided to go to his pigs. He glanced at the unusually quiet crows. They don’t even look at him, instead staring at Hayseed like he’s just insulted their mother. Mako squinted at it, trying to see what they see, but all he could see is the same old scarecrow. It looked much more shapely than it ever did, but that’s only because it’s been recently restuffed and the hay has finally settled into a human shape; he’s sure.

The girls are happy to see him always, and positively delirious with joy when the food comes. The rest of the rabble in the larger pen are just as lively, but they aren’t quite as well socialised and pet like as their mothers. It’s best not to get attached to the produce. But, Mako still spoils them somewhat and splits the remained of yesterday's failed amaranth sprigs into their troughs. He smiled for the first time that day as they chow down; amaranth is sometimes called ‘pigweed’ for good reason.

A glance at the barometer told Mako to expect rain. Earlier, over the mountains, Mako had seen a few clouds obscure the peak and so today, rather than let his drove of pigs out to get chilled to the bone, he kept them inside and instead threw a few basketballs into the pens for them to play with; just because their slaughter pigs doesn’t mean that they didn’t deserve enrichment. They didn’t need their heaters on just yet, but it wouldn’t be too long. Mako sighed at yet another bill he would need to pay.

Not for the first time, Mako scoffed at the irony of how he, a vegetarian, was raising slaughter pigs. He also reminded himself that he hadn’t sold a single one and this quarters rotation was due for market. Maybe he should try to breed more of the sows. Surely replacing them with piglets would reduce the loss.

...Maybe later.

Mako made a point to not look at the hole in the roof. He really didn’t want to do it. Mako wasn’t scared of heights, but he was not a small man and most definitely no fool. If the rafters and roof were already fairly rotten, then last thing he wanted to do was tempt fate by putting his weight on it and risking him having a very unfortunate meeting with the ground some 10 metres below. 

Mako went behind the barn, to where all the remaining heavy tools were kept to get the trailer for his corn and the boxes to ready them for shipping. The cool shed, for preserving shipping ready crops was back here too; he opened it up to check that nothing had snuck in and made a home in there, but all was as it should be so he could store corn in there to await delivery.

The trailer was designed to be pulled by a tow hitch, but Mako managed. He knew it would be very cumbersome to pull when filled with full shipping crates but he didn’t let laziness get to him. He filled the trailer with as many corn bales as he could and dragged it back to the bench on his porch to sit at least with some comfort as he worked. By hand, he stripped the husks, cleaned them, separated the cobs that couldn’t be saved and neatly stacked them into their boxes.

Mako imagined each filled box was a stack of bills he had earned and that made work much easier. He was fast and efficient and the hours ticked by at a merry pace. By the time he made it to midday and to lunch, he had almost completely forgotten about last night's nightmare. Mako made a smug expression purely for his own benefit, proud of not letting a bad night ruin his day.

In his freshly shifted mood, from anger to accomplishment, Mako decided to make use of his vigor and make something adventurous to eat, schupfnudel. It was a little fiddly and time consuming to make, but well worth the effort. He made some fresh tortellini with broccoli and pesto to eat later; after all, there’s no point in stopping again to cook if the day is going this well. He wants to make the best of the time.

When he went back outside, Mako spotted something rather unusual. The ever present birds had made a complete ring of space around Hayseed, as if it was suddenly doing its job. Mako jumps and so did all the bird when the clouds come over, momentarily darkening the land before the first raindrops began to fall; but neither was frightened by the sudden shift of light, but by how the trick of the light made it look as if the scarecrow... twitched.

Mako wandered over to his scarecrow and stared it down, the image of the shrieking skull refreshed in his mind. But the scarecrow seemed oblivious, and smiles away sweetly as it always had. The overalls had slipped from one shoulder slightly and left it looking more lopsided than usual, so Mako corrected it, and was surprised to feel that the stocking body felt silkier than usual... and warm. But the weather was far too cold for such a material retain any heat from of the morning sun.

Mako brushed his hand down his overalls, just to give his hands something to do. Maybe it was just the rain that made to stockings silkier, bordering on flesh like. He didn’t want to talk to it, but bad habits are hard to break.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you this,” Mako told it, “But stay out of trouble Hayseed. I’ve had a shitty night, and if you give me any mystical mojo crap, I’ll use you as tinder on Bonfire Night, do not test me.”

Hayseed couldn’t make any promises. Nor could it do any more than smile.

Mako got back to work. The porch protected him from most of the rain but it did put his plans to work the field more on hold. He made quick dashes to his bales each time he needed a new set to work on but still managed to get soaked. It was much more arduous to work in the rain and the cold and the coat did little to keep him warm, but Mako finished what he started, albeit somewhat slower than he had hoped. 

He rushed the final tasks to finish up. The boxes of corn were stored away and the insulated stone room padlocked now that there was something valuable in there, and the pigs were given their evening meal. It was a little early for them, but they most certainly didn’t complain. 

Mako really couldn’t ignore that the pigs had made an actual wallow out of the mud the rain had helped make through the makeshift ‘skylight’. They’d need baths tomorrow. He counted his blessings that the hole was over the smaller pen and not over their wooden sty so that wouldn’t rot either. Having 13 dirty pigs to clean was always going to be better than potentially 100.

Mako ran through the rain to get inside the house and call it a day due to the damnable weather. He spares only the quickest glance at his scarecrow and doesn’t notice how its fake flesh seems to be becoming less and less ‘fake’. Nor does he notice how its head seems to follow him as he runs to shelter…

\---

Back inside the house was bliss. Mako shed himself of his layers all the way down to his underwear and started up the fireplace. He hung up his wet clothes on a rack near the fire and put his feet up on the couch and let his rest on the arm of the sofa. It groaned a little under his weight but Mako just groaned back as his sore muscles finally got a break and relaxed into the springs.

He may have fallen asleep if not for the flash of lightning and the loud rumble that shook the sky. He sat up to look out the window and saw how the sky was completely obscured by the thick black rain clouds, making it feel far later than it was. Mako wanted to try and sleep through it, but it was dinner time, and that tortellini wasn’t going to eat itself. 

The food tasted good but Mako found he couldn’t help but notice how loud the rain was as it echoed in the relatively empty farmhouse. Each clap of thunder seemed louder than the last and Mako could hear his pulse again in the gaps between the booms. Part of him worried about his blood pressure, but the other half sensed that awful feeling of loneliness creeping back.

He wanted to bring one of the pigs inside; a pet didn’t seem like a bad idea right then.

Lastly, Mako sent the emails he needed to send on his laptop to Bauer’s old contacts, letting them know the usual supply was ready for collection. He was pleasantly surprised at how quick the reply came, only to slump when he realised that it was an automated response. Of course; this farm was one of the only one’s left that worked all by hand for self sustain rather than expansion. 

The email told him to expect the collection truck to come in about a week. He would be paid upon providing a digital signature to the driver at what Mako felt was a good rate. He did the maths. He could live off of that... until he remembered that he would need to replenish the pigs food supply and that left him with next to nothing. He begrudgingly sent off the other email he had been putting off to the ‘processing’ company and decided to check for a reply later. He really didn't want to sell his pigs, but what could he do? He had to make a living.

The storm eventually started to die down. The rain continued to fall, albeit gentler now and the flashes of lightning and thunder were much less frequent... and loud. Mako finished the cup of cocoa he had made himself and took this as a sign to go up to bed. A nice early night would probably do him wonders after such an early start.

One particularly long and bright flash of thunder, a last hurrah for the night, lit up the farm outside Mako’s bedroom window. He couldn’t help but look up, as one cannot help but look to light and he could see the puddles that have formed on the long drive to the road. He could see the trailer he forgot to put away properly filling with water. Mako could also see Hayseed on its post in the now partially cleared field.

It was looking up, impossibly so. Mako was sure of it, yet the farm was plunged back into the dark of the night and he couldn’t double-check.

“What did I say about ‘mystical mojo’, you little shit...?” He muttered as he shut the curtains, not wanting to believe what he thought he saw.

Mako replayed the dream in his head one last time, against his better judgement. He reopens the curtains just a crack and peeks out, letting his eyes adjust and squinting at the scarecrow. Mako wanted to put his mind to rest that he was imagining things; but Hayseed was not only still looking straight up, but looked shiny from where the raindrops had run rivers over what looked, entirely too much, like real skin.

“No.” Mako snapped and closes the curtains again decisively.

“This is HORSESHIT. There’s no such thing as magic. There’s no such thing as monsters and there sure as Hell ain’t no Goddamn thing as witches!”

Mako heard a mournful, screeching noise coming from outside.

On pain of death, Mako wouldn’t admit to the fear he felt and how his blood went icy cold. He put himself to bed, in only his underwear, and switched off the bedside lamp. He huddled under the covers, wrapped a little too tightly to be really comfortable and forced himself to keep his eyes shut. He holds the pillow up and around his ears to block out sound.

He stays this way for as long as he can physically hold his arms up, but Mako eventually relaxed them down but didn’t listen for anything except for the sound of his own breathing. He starts to relax after maybe an hour, and he’s pretty sure now that he only imagined the noise. Why did he ever think he disliked the silence? Silence is great! Silence is normal.

The silence was broken by another loud, miserable wail; a sound like an iron bar being bent, yet deeply emotional.

Mako wasn’t sure what’s stranger; the noise itself, or the fact that he had got up and headed downstairs to get his boots and coat on at the midnight hour. He didn’t want to believe in monsters, he truly didn’t; but the sound was most definitely real and he needed to investigate. It would be irresponsible of him not to. He had pigs to defend! Mako briefly wondered if he should put some pants on; but the part of him that still didn’t believe the sounds were real told him he’d only be a moment.

He stepped out and into the rain, little more than a drizzle now. The air was cold and chilled Mako to the bone in seconds but he walked with purpose towards the scarecrow. He could hardly see it, his eyes not adjusting to the dark as quickly as he’d like as he moves further away from the house which dimly lights the way from the open door. Mako was almost right on top of it before he could see it clearly.

It had moved again; its head slumped down to towards the ground and its body pushed forward, away from the post and straining at the bonds around its arms... arms made of real flesh. The skin looked rough and bruised where the ropes were, like the scarecrow had been struggling to free itself. Strands of hay stuck through stitches in the wet skin and had some dropped to the ground like shed hair.

Mako watched it move without a doubt, the hay rustled as it very clearly sighed, a defeated gesture that would have been soundless if not for the hay itself. Mako let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, his disbelief shattering around him as was his perception of the World as he knew it. Hayseed heard it and its head shot back up, making Mako jump and take a step back.

Its eyes glowed, just like in his dream. They burned like orange flames inside the goggles stitched into the mask which for the first time ever, didn’t smile. That mouth instead was held in an expression of awe, which Mako was returning. It was surreal to watch the scarecrow move of its own accord, looking positively surreal and yet familiar in the way only a human can. It pulled itself back to a more upright position and stared silently at Mako, as it was the one who could hardly believe what it was seeing.

Mako was the first to swallow around the awkward silence and finally, he spoke, in English this time.

“I guess I’m not in Kansas anymore…” He quietly joked, weakly laughing at the old reference. 

Hayseed shrieked, making Mako almost slip with how fast he stepped back. However, unlike the nightmare, this shrill noise was one of unadulterated joy. It sounded like nails down a chalkboard yet still familiar enough for emotion. Hayseed’s mask stretched back into its usual smile, only so much wider. It fought at its bindings will renewed vigor desperate to be free from its rope shackles.

Mako is reminded of the chains in his dream.

“Hayseed…?” He asked incredulous, his voice barely a whisper, almost lost in the soft pitter patter of the rain.

Hayseed nodded quickly.

“You... want to get down?” Mako asked, despite knowing the answer.

Hayseed nods so hard some of its straw hair falls out, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

“Then stay still. Just... just don’t do anything. It’s late and I don’t want any funny business...”

It was a stupid thing to say, but Mako didn’t want to admit how frightened he was, lest he give the creature any bad ideas. Hayseed however was completely obedient, and aside from its eyes and neck which followed Mako’s every move, it remained totally still. Mako took the moment to look the scarecrow from top to bottom before stepping closer.

Whilst every stitch remained in the skin, all of the stocking material had been replaced with skin. From its foot all the way up to its shoulders. The missing leg was hidden under its wet overalls but the straw that burst from the original rip seemed to still be there. The metal omnic arm moved with the same control as the left and seemed to be as much a part of the creature's body as its hay. The eyes moved independently and glowed brightly, lighting up its smile. It was a disarmingly charming smile all things considered.

Mako swallowed noticeably but reached out to untie the scarecrows left arm. Hayseed made the tiniest metallic noise at the skin contact, full of joy. Despite the cold, it felt warm and alive. Mako made a note not to stare but he could see that the noise was coming from the metal goggles as the lenses twisted, focusing as appropriate to mimic vaguely human sounding noises. The left arm was freed and Hayseed stretched it out, enjoying its new freedom.

“Stay still.” Mako commanded sharply and Hayseed obeyed, putting its gloved hand down by its side.

Mako freed the metal right arm and now it would only take a simple lift to bring the creature down. When Mako hesitated, it looked worried. Hayseed made what was undoubtedly a worried smile, almost a beg as it reached out its arms, slowly so as not to startle Mako, and made ‘grabby’ hand gestures. It was an odd sight and made it look weak, and it didn’t suit its huge size and gait; but it was this display of dependency that triggered Mako’s empathy, and he reached up to pluck it from the perch.

With only one leg, he knew it couldn’t walk so Mako held it in his arms, as one would cradle a child, and Hayseed snuggled up to him like one, unbothered by the wet coat. The eyes dimmed a little as if shutting its bizarre eyes. Its chest heaved with a faint rustle; a deep and silent sigh of contentment.

“I guess you better come inside.” Mako said, without any other ideas as to what to do. 

Hayseed nodded again with as much vigor as last time.

Mako was mindful not to slip in the fresh mud as he walked back to the house. He was terribly cold but couldn’t care less. He was too busy trying to wrap his head around what the hell he was doing. The Witches words rang in Mako’s head as he made his way inside, carefully toeing his boots off on the dry porch so as to not track mud inside.

“My gift to you.”

Mako put his soggy ‘gift’ down on the sofa in the living room. Hayseed balled its fists excitedly by its ‘mouth’ and bounced on its spot on the seat, dripping and making a wet patch on the fabric covers. Mako momentarily left the room to shut the door and lock back up, trying not to let any more of the heat out of the house. 

He ran his hand over his face, lingering over his mouth whilst his other hand held the door handle in grip that sent his knuckles white. He wanted to do something... anything to send things back to normal... but was completely devoid of ideas. This was all just too crazy and all he wanted to do was go back to the comfort of his warm bed and sleep. 

Mako eventually let go of the handle and went back to the living room, just in time to shout at Hayseed to not touch the fireplace it had been reaching for. The living room fire had burnt itself out naturally but the room was still warm and filled with a gentle smell of lingering woodsmoke. Hayseed held up its arms limply in a way that made the dripping obvious.

Mako took the hint and fetched it a towel from the bathroom upstairs. This time when he returned, Hayseed was sitting in a sort of kneeling position, or as best it could, with its hands on its lap and its best smile across its face; like a good boy. Mako gently tossed the towel in front of it and it dove on it to wrap itself up like a straw filled burrito. It hadn’t seemed cold, it just didn’t seem to enjoy being wet.

“So…” Mako started, trying to think of something to say as Hayseed perked visibly.

“Like I said; it’s... it’s pretty late. So I’m going to go back to bed. You stay here and we can figure this shit out in the morning, yeah?”

Hayseed’s eyes flickered in a clear blink, looking incredulous. 

“You can sleep in here.” Mako added, like that made things any better. 

Hayseed pointed at itself and then to Mako, nodding.

“Goodnight.” Mako said decisively, ignoring the creatures indication.

Hayseed looked around, as if to look for an excuse; it wasn’t smiling anymore. Mako turned and left the room before it could do something rash and shut the door behind him, locking it. It’s just as well he did, as the creature thudded in protest on the other side seconds later. The scarecrow screeched and wailed, definitely banging the heavy metal fist on the door and probably leaving marks in the paint.

“Cut that shit out!” Mako roars at it from the other side, desperate to regain some control.

“I said we will figure this out in the morning, and that’s damn well what will happen! Now SHUT THE FUCK UP HAYSEED!!”

Mako is met with silence.

Mako stepped away from the door, his palms and forehead sweating with stress. He murmured a soft ‘thank you’ but he doesn’t check to see if it heard him or not. Mako took the key to the living room with him upstairs and placed it on the bedside table. He climbed back into bed and laid on his back, staring at the ceiling for a while. He can’t hear any noise from downstairs.

He was tired, exhausted even by the events of the last 15 minutes. His nightmare replays one more time in his head, as vivid and as visceral a memory as any other he has. Normally, he forgets his dreams within minutes of waking up, but not this one. The worrying thought that it may have not been a dream gave Mako the chills like icy fingers up and down his spine. Mako finally falls asleep as the clock ticks over to 2AM.

He still dreamt. A black and white dream, where he was tied to the post outside, as Hayseed had been. Before him stands the man from the nightmare. His lab coat was still bloody and his body still bruised and broken but he didn’t seem to be in any pain; he just stared at Mako, watching as he fights against the ropes that hold him in place. Mako was about to ask him to get him down, but in a blink, the man is gone and Hayseed hovers in his place. 

It reached up slowly and placed the gloved hand on Mako’s cheek. It tilted its head gently to one side.

“Help me?” Mako begs, and barely recognises his own voice laced with misery he didn’t mean to express.

Hayseed smiled warmly, and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters in two days guys!! Finally the monster boy makes his true debut!
> 
> Comments and kudos FEEEEED me so please remember to leave one or both! Maybe even a bookmark so you can keep up with updates!
> 
> Thanks again to my darling, Sassy who beta'd this for me!  
> One day...ONE DAY I will know how to embed and link you to them!

**Author's Note:**

> MY FIRST FANFIC IN YEARS!! I am so very proud of myself!! I hope you're proud of me too! PLEASE leave a comment or a kudos and I'll get chapters up as soon as they are done/beta'd! I had to beta this one myself so there may be a mistake or two here and there...but I tried!
> 
> Heavily inspired by the works of the Sassy Aussie Lassy! <<< I'll link this up to their profile when I figure out how. I'm still an AO3 noob.
> 
> Thank you for reading and feel free to hit me up on twitter, tumblr or deviantart under the same handle!  
> PEACE!!


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